


In the storm

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blizzards & Snowstorms, F/M, Love Confessions, One Shot, just a prompt I got, no plot really, trapped in a car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-10-25 02:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17716703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: She turned her head quickly as his eyes flickered over her face, no doubt catching her blush.“I figured you had a problem with me,” he muttered. “So, I just let you have your space.”“I didn’t have a problem with you,” she mumbled. Only the way you made me feel."I'm sorry if you thought I hated you," he said, turning to glance at her again, holding her gaze for a moment before he returned to staring out ahead. "I don't think anyone ever could though.""People do," she murmured softly, turning away from him and staring out the window so that she could hide her tears.





	In the storm

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many drafts and prompts sitting on here and on a word document but it's been so mental with uni just now that I've had to be adding bits to them as I go.

If someone had asked Sansa what the most awkward moment of her life was at any point before this moment, she would have probably managed to conjure some memory of her teenage years when her face was covered in spots and her body hadn’t seemed to know what it wanted to do in terms of height and weight.

Now though, she would say that, without a doubt, being stuck in a car with Jon Snow in the middle of a snowstorm was the most awkward moment of her life.

It wasn’t that she hated Jon. In fact, half of the awkwardness came from the fact that she was well aware of the fact that her crush on her brother’s best friend had never truly disappeared. But they had never really spoken much, mostly because of said crush making her so scared of embarrassing herself in front of him that she made every effort to never interact with him except when necessary.

But, as she matured, she had managed to force herself to make the effort. She wasn’t a rude person after all, and ignoring him was rude. Only, Jon had never really made much effort back and she had accepted that he was just not interested. He probably saw her as nothing more than Robb’s annoying sister.

She had already felt weird accepting the offer of a lift home from him, dreading the stretched silence that would no doubt fill the space between them. But she wasn’t the richest girl, and the trains and buses had been too expensive.

But she was glad that she had chosen to travel with Jon in the end because the forecast hadn't said anything about snow and, if she had been on a bus or a train, she would be freezing her butt off. Jon, however, had been prepared as always, those years in the Boy Scouts clearly leaving their mark and had had blankets, jumpers and snacks stored in the backseat ever since winter first came, just in case disaster struck.

So, here she was, huddled under a duvet and with one of Jon’s jumper on for an extra layer (trying hard not to notice how his aftershave clung to the material and made her want to nuzzle in) and feeling the awkwardness beginning to suffocate her.

Her phone pinged loudly in the silence between them, making Sansa jump slightly. As she suspected, it was her mother replying to her message about them being stuck, warning them to stay warm and safe.

Placing the phone into the cup holder beside her, she chanced another glance at Jon. He was wrapped in a duvet as well, his head resting against the window as he stared out at the stationary traffic in front of them.

“Still no sign of the ploughs?” she asked, the silence becoming too much for her that she had felt compelled to say something, _anything_ , even if it was just a stupid, obvious comment.

“No,” he sighed.

Sansa let out a sigh of her own and looked down at her hands. The words bubbled up through her throat and blurted out before she could stop them.

“Do you hate me?”

Jon jerked upright, giving her a puzzled frown. “You what?”

She shrugged and pulled the duvet tighter around her. “You never speak to me.”

“You don’t speak to me either,” he replied, glowering out of the window once more.

Sansa felt her cheeks flush, her face feeling like fire against the sharp cold air. “That…that is different!”

Jon glanced at her. “Is it?”

She turned her head quickly as his eyes flickered over her face, no doubt catching her blush.

“I figured you had a problem with me,” he muttered. “So, I just let you have your space.”

“I didn’t have a problem with you,” she mumbled. _Only the way you made me feel._

"I'm sorry if you thought I hated you," he said, turning to glance at her again, holding her gaze for a moment before he returned to staring out ahead. "I don't think anyone ever could though."

"People do," she murmured softly, turning away from him and staring out the window so that she could hide her tears.

She had never told anyone about the bullying she had endured from others in school. She was deemed an airhead, a snob and a brat. Joffrey had dumped her in front of the whole school, calling her a frigid and stupid bitch. And so many people had laughed along with him. If Robb, Jon and Arya had had the same lunch hour that they would have beaten Joffrey to a pulp. Over the years, she had learned that what people thought of her didn't matter really. She had her true friends and her family, and she was happy enough with her life. But sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder what she had done to people to be on the receiving end of such hatred, so much that they would think she deserved some awful things she couldn't even bare to speak.

"Who?"

Jon's voice was low, a threat to it, as if he were truly angry about her treatment. Sansa shrugged, still looking away from him. It wouldn't do to get caught up in romantic daydreams of Jon being angry at the people who had hurt her because he was in love with her, that he wanted to protect her for any other reason than the fact she was his best friend's little sister. She had learned from her experiences that the world could be cruel and the stories were just that, stories.

"Who hurt you, Sansa?"

His voice was softer now, almost pleading. And the feel of his thumb against her wrist made her jump, the heat shooting through her and painting her cheeks as she stared at the digit for a moment. Slowly, she raised her eyes, watched Jon's brow furrow in concern as his gaze swept across her face, and she forced a smile,

"Nobody," she assured him, shaking her head to dispel the thoughts of her past. "It was a long time ago. Just silly school kids. It doesn't matter anymore."

"It matters," Jon insisted, his eyes burning into hers. "It matters to me if you're hurt."

"Why?"

"Because I..." He cut himself off, his eyes widening and a blush colouring his face. He retreated hastily back into his seat, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared ahead.

Sansa's gaze returned on her wrist, the feel of his thumb still burning through her skin and she wanted to feel it again, wanted to feel his arms around her and his lips against her own. Seeing him react like this, she figured she knew what was causing it. She would be doing the exact same thing if she had almost blurted out all the feelings she had bottled up for so long in front of him.

"I do too," she whispered, forcing herself to look up at him. She watched him swallow before he turned towards her. She took a shaky breath. "I love you, Jon."

Jon didn't say anything but she only had a split second to feel panic that she might have gotten it wrong before he was leaning across, his hand winding around her neck and pulling her close until their lips met. She moaned softly at the feel, her eyes fluttering shut as Jon cupped her cheek with his spare hand and she blindly clutched at the duvet that he still had draped around him.

"That warmed me up," she giggled when he retreated, their foreheads pressed together.

"I've wanted to kiss you for so long," he sighed with a small smile. 

Sansa pulled back a little, stretching up to look out of the window for a few seconds before turning back to him with a grin. "It could still be a while before they come. We could start making up for all those kisses we've missed."

Jon's smile widened, making his eyes crinkle. He reached forward to tuck her hair behind her ear and let his hand linger on her cheek. "Well, I've had a crush on you since I was fifteen, and pretty sure I've been in love with you about as long, so there are a lot of kisses to make up for."

"Well, then," Sansa purred, reaching beneath the duvet to grab his jumper and pull him closer, her head tilting invitingly, ready for him to kiss her. "Shut up and kiss me, Jon Snow."

 


End file.
